<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Study In Discipline by venom_for_free</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840433">A Study In Discipline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/pseuds/venom_for_free'>venom_for_free</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM themes, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Frottage, Humiliation, Jealousy, M/M, Modern Setting, Oneshot, Oral, Otabek is a professor, Pining, Pretty Kinky, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Slapping, Slight Obsession, Smut, Sub!Otabek, Yes-really., Yuri is a student, but not really, complicated relationship, cursing, dom!Yuri, pretty rough, spitting, they are basically half hate-fucking at this point</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:21:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/pseuds/venom_for_free</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Otabek Altin is a successful university professor with one dark secret.<br/>That secret likes to wear leather skirts, brings dangerous toys into his office, and is called Yuri Plisetsky.<br/>He is also his student. Professor Altin's wife can't know. No one can know.<br/>And yet, neither of them can stop. Because no matter how twisted it is, no matter how wrong, they both need each other. </p>
<p>Or:<br/>Dom!Yuri going to town on the man he desperately wants to be with, but can't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Study In Discipline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to a darker plot again.<br/>Please mind the tags, you have been warned, they like to go hard. </p>
<p>My eternal undying love and thanks to the best editor and friend in the world, my beloved Taedae. ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He's like, totally the most handsome man I've ever seen." Yuri closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "He's so strong. I bet he could carry me on like, one arm. Maybe half an arm. He's so perfect, don't you think?" The group squeals their agreement. Most of the group. "Yura, how about you?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opens his eyes, looks at Mila, and the bunch of giggling girls behind her. "He's okay, I guess." They squeal once more, but Yuri doesn't want to hear it. This topic riles him up. He hates it. "Well. This was fun. Kinda. But I gotta go." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mila pouts at him, the fucking child, not ready to let Yuri leave. He's got no idea why. It's not like he's pleasant company tonight. But the whole discussion pisses him off. On the one hand, he's proud. On the other, he's seething. "Stay a little longer? Come on. Just one more beer?" He's about to say yes when Mila gives him a mischievous smile. "You can't miss out on the picture presentation!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck yes. Yes, he can miss out on that disgusting bullshit. Women snapping pictures of men's behind are, to him, not much better than guys who take underskirt pictures. The only reason Mila doesn't do that is because professor Altin doesn't wear skirts. It creeps Yuri out, maybe because he has heard men and women alike talk about him in the same way. And that was just what they dared say to his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He has to swallow down his anger, his frustration, his jealousy. There's a snarling animal inside of him. But Yuri needs to gather his bearings. Against better judgement, he stays. Even if it's just to know his enemy. Not Mila, she's okay, but some of the others are seriously getting on his nerves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 'He's drinking his coffee black.'  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 'The motorcycle he drives is a Harley!'  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 'I think his sweaters are handmade.'  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything supported by pictures. It's like a cult. Disgusting, utterly disgusting. Yuri feels nauseous. He seriously considers leaving again when it continues. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> 'He's fucking the dean. Look? Here. A coffee date! Oh my god, he's wearing the cable knit sweater of doom. The one I hope he wears when he chokes me to my untimely but obviously picture-perfect death.'  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he was entirely in the moment, Yuri would tell her that professor Altin wouldn't touch her with the longest pair of tweezers in the world, let alone choke her, but he's not thinking straight. Yuri is staring at the picture of the dean, casually leaning in, holding the professor's hand. He tastes the bile creeping up his throat, and jumps up. "I gotta go." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mila blinks at him, a drunken owl. "Where?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> As far away as he can. </em>"Home." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sighs. "But you just got here!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, I didn't. I've been enduring this overly hormonal mental fuck fest for <em> hours </em> now, and every one of you sinners disgust me. What do you think professor Altin would say if he found out about you stalking him like that, you fucking creeps?!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-- </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"SORRY!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As it turns out, professor Altin would say <em> 'sorry.' </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri sneers at him and spits on his twisted face. "Your <em> 'sorry' </em> means FUCKING NOTHING to me!" Tight fists form to both sides of Yuri. His plan to keep the anger, frustration, and jealousy at Mila's place was chucked out the window once he saw the pictures. He's pacing, up and down, up and down the office, eyes carefully averted. Disinterest and disappointment hit harder than any whip. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek is sobbing. It's not pretty. He's covered in tears, snot, Yuri's spit and his own running down his face. He's a mess. Yuri hates how much he loves it, how much they both love it. "Yuri, please!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stops pacing like a wild animal, but his face remains in the shadows. "What do you want?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Please! Let me make it up to you!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri hears shuffling, the expensive slacks catching on the floorboard as his professor tries to get to him, tries to appease him, tries to regain his favor. Otabek probably didn't expect <em> this </em> when Yuri asked him to meet in his office, late at night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Make it up to me?" He turns. Slowly. Face a cold and impassive mask. "So, you <em> did </em> fuck the dean?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek's eyes widen. Somewhere under all those layers of fear and arousal, there's surprise. "Of course not! You know I belong to you, I'm—" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri silences him with a slap to the face, and Otabek smiles, cradles his cheek, says, <em> 'thank you.' </em> That's not what Yuri meant to happen, but it doesn't really matter. His professor is kneeling in front of him, breathing harshly, holding his red face with one hand, the other hovering between him and Yuri. It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You belong to me, yeah? Does your wife know?" Otabek curls into himself, protects his middle as if Yuri kicked him. That's actually an excellent idea. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He draws his foot back, then buries it deep in Otabek's guts. Anger strengthens the kick, but Yuri knows—he <em> knows </em>—it won't do anything. Otabek is still protecting himself with his arms. And even if he wasn't, the guy has abs you could sacrifice a lamb on. Killing innocence is a matching theme for their meetings, anyway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For good measure, Yuri kicks again, and this time, Otabek manages to wrestle his instincts and lifts his arms, allowing Yuri to hit him much harder. He groans, keeps mumbling <em> 'thank you' </em>s. So Yuri kicks again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he finally steps back, he's out of breath. Otabek is a small, curled up ball of pain and pleasure. He's flushed, breathing hard. Yuri doesn't know how much of that is from the physical exhaustion and how much of it is arousal. The tenting in his professor's pants gives Yuri a little glimpse into his fucked up brain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Get up." He complies. Otabek immediately stands, breathing even harder now, flushed and blotchy. "Undress." Yuri doesn't deserve the gratitude he is presented with. He looks the other man up and down. A little taller than himself, twice as broad. His boss, technically speaking. And yet, he grovels at every word. "Look at you, you fucking disappointing mess." Yuri points at his cock, filled to the brim with blood, looking almost painfully flushed. "You're leaking all over the floor. Who do you think will clean that, huh? Your poor cleaning lady?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I can clean it, master. Please, let me clean the mess I made?" He looks so hopeful Yuri feels almost revolted. Almost. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Kneel." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek drops like a tree sliced apart by lighting. Yuri can see the same fire burning inside of him, filling his hollow insides. Yuri knows this is the only thing that makes him feel alive. Not the Harley. Not his wife. Not the cable knit sweaters and the dean holding his hand in broad daylight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's a third semester punk in a latex mini skirt with a riding crop waiting on the office desk. It's combat boots pressing down on tight balls and ties shoved into the professor's mouth. It's Yuri, fucking him over the papers he should grade, first with his own cock, and later, because the fucking slut can't get enough, with a heavy, glittery black strap-on that would tear most people apart but that Otabek prays to religiously. It's his favorite treat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>None of that for him today. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why were you out with the dean?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We discussed my contract."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And she said she wants to keep me." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri strikes him square across the face. He doesn't even know why, if it's anger or a reward, he simply follows his instincts. <em> 'Yuri,' </em> they always said, <em> 'Yuri, your terrible attitude will get you nowhere.' </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Obviously, it got him into his professor's pants, mind, heart, whatever. He has no idea which part of his professor is attached to him. Yuri just knows Otabek comes running whenever he is called. He leaves lectures, meetings, his wife's bed. Like tonight. Just to be struck in the face. Just to say <em> 'thank you' </em> for it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, I'll have to see your incompetent, pathetic ass for another year?" Otabek nods, smiling serenely. He scoots closer, gravitating around Yuri, unable to withstand the force that might kill him one day. Large, powerful fingers brush over the skirt. Asking for permission. "Don't fucking think you'll be allowed to touch me today." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's genuine sadness in Otabek's eyes for a moment, and Yuri can't bear it. He grabs his face and jerks it upright to lock eyes. "You're a fucking disappointment." Otabek nods, his eyes glaze over again, the smile is back. "People think you're so hot and clever, but no one knows you as I do, isn't that right?" Otabek nods again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things with them started out as a mistake. Yuri went to his office to complain about a grade, run his filthy mouth, and maybe said one or two things that should have gotten him expelled. Instead, his professor whimpered. When he stood to grab himself a glass of whiskey, Yuri had no idea where it came from, but he noticed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hunched walk. The labored breathing. The bulge so prominent Otabek couldn't hide it even though he tried. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri got louder, screamed more, insulted the man. But Otabek only whimpered, again and again, and curled more into himself. That's when Yuri clued in. It had, admittedly, taken a while. He hadn't known much about kink other than that it existed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then he experimentally ordered his professor to kneel and Otabek folded into himself. When Yuri pressed his platform boot into his lap, and the answer was a strangled gasp and a big, damp spot on his professor's pants … that's when his world changed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If people ever found out, they would assume all the wrong things. Yuri didn't do it for a grade. Or money. Or other pleasantries. Yuri made his professor his on-call whore because it excited him. The thought of a man twice his size and a dozen times his influence, crying in front of him—the rush of power was more intoxicating than any party drug he ever tried. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was like that back then. It's still like that right now. Yuri needs Otabek just as much. He's just better at hiding it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> "What would your wife think?" Yuri caresses his face twice, then slaps it lightly before repeating it, making it a cycle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That I'm sick. Disgusting. Totally perverted." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, the truth?" Otabek nods. He has that look again. It makes Yuri smile. Consequently, his slaps harden. And Otabek never fails to thank him. It makes Yuri rethink his decision. "Do you want to blow me?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek's eyes clear up. Yuri can see the gears turning in his head as he nods excitedly. "Am I forgiven?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"For what exactly?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Meeting with the dean." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I thought it was a job situation?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It was, but I didn't ask you for permission." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek doesn't have to. Never had. But the way he says it makes Yuri think he might want it. And punishment on top, for breaking a rule that didn't exist until a second ago. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri smirks. "I can't forgive you just like that." Seeing Otabek's relieved face confirms his suspicions. "Have you fucked your wife since we last met?" His answer is a very enthusiastic <em> 'no,' </em>conveyed by a shaking head. "And did she want you to?" This time, Otabek nods. He looks sad, doesn't enjoy that kind of pain and tension. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri's chest constricts. He doesn't want to be an accomplice in a broken marriage that would have had a chance without him. "Did you want to?" Otabek thinks for a second, grants him the respect to actually consider the question. Then, he shakes his head. <em> 'No.' </em> Yuri nods. "Then, you did well." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The absolution twists Otabek's face, draws his eyebrows tight. It's the face he makes in pleasure. Yuri has learned a lot over the last half a year. He can see Otabek is in the nonverbal phase now, so deep in his head, it's easier to follow, not to talk. So he gives him something to follow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri grabs his professor's tie from the floor and wraps it around his neck. Then, he pulls it, roughly, just like they both need. Otabek stumbles upwards, suddenly towering over Yuri. For a moment, he considers kicking the other in the groin, but not even Yuri is that cruel. Instead, Yuri straightens up, too, before he cups him there. He's welcomed by a damp sensation, smears the precum over the dark, swollen head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So eager for me." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek whimpers, so Yuri slaps his tip, once, twice, three times. Every time the other flinches. The mountain of muscles in front of him is useless, broken down to a bunch of pitiful whimpers and groans. Yuri knows Otabek can cum like this, so he stops. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe his marriage would have had a better chance if he told his wife that just because he was born with a penis, it doesn't mean he likes to stick it somewhere. Maybe, if she had figured out that she should have fucked <em> him </em>, Yuri wouldn't have to do it. But that's her loss. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reaches around, traces his fingers over the lubed entrance, toys with the plug. Otabek comes prepared, always. They know Yuri doesn't have the patience for it. And it would ruin the atmosphere. "Messy little whore. Always so ready for me, just waiting for me to call." Yuri sighs, it's almost a warm sound. Most of his anger is gone now. But he remembers Otabek wanted to keep playing. "Redress."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The command confuses him. Usually, he stays naked until Yuri allows him to cum, but Otabek is quick to follow nonetheless. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri turns away, somehow the process of getting dressed again is more intimate than undressing. He stares out of the window. It's the middle of the night, but the city lights drown out the stars. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not many people are still in the building at this hour, so when Yuri leaves the office, he drags Otabek around on his tie like a disobedient dog. The professor looks so overwhelmed, so happy, Yuri isn't sure he will make it to their destination. Otabek might just cum in his pants like a twelve-year-old. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They reach the library without running into anyone. Yuri chose a longer route to avoid potential onlookers. Their library is open 24 hours, so you never really know who's around. Urban legends speak about a girl living in the library and couples that fuck between the rows of books. He plans to confirm one of those tonight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He drops Otabek's makeshift leash at the last corner, not missing the regretful little sound he makes, before they walk into the big hall of books. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A girl with arms full of snacks stumbles into him. She's wearing pajamas. Apparently, this night proves both stories. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Professor?" Yuri gives him a meaningful look, causing Otabek to follow him like an eager puppy. The man isn't thinking straight, or else he wouldn't follow Yuri around like this, smiling like an idiot. Yuri swears to himself to protect his trust. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They find an aisle of IT books and hide away in it. No IT student ever uses the library, it's in their nature to look things up online. Moreover, the internet moves so fast, once a book is printed, it's outdated. Yuri points Otabek down, asking him to kneel, and lifts his skirt. His thin briefs are easily pulled aside, and he disappears in Otabek's throat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Too bad he can't fuck him today, all this preparation for nothing. But being disappointed and refused is part of the thrill for him, so Yuri doesn't feel too much like an asshole. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, dumbfuck. Make it up to me." Yuri cups his jaw, but only to allow himself ruthless thrusting. He repeatedly hits the back of Otabek's throat, trying to make him gag, and watches his eyes roll in pleasure whenever it happens. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri fucks his mouth relentlessly. The ultimate power trip. For a second, he pulls back, a whine falling from Otabek's lips together with Yuri's dick, but he has bigger plans. Leaning down, Yuri frees Otabek's own painful erection. <em> Then </em>Yuri fucks his face again, heel pressed firmly into stiff flesh. Reminiscent of their first time. "If you get me off now, I'll give you a minute to cum yourself." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek hasn't expected this generosity. He goes harder, makes himself almost throw up a few times. His eyes are big and desperate, pleading to be accepted and denied at the same time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuri's orgasm is almost an afterthought until it slams into him out of nowhere. He forces Otabek down to the base, empties himself in the mouth that kisses the professor's wife. He's nothing but a cum dump. He's everything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He holds him down longer than necessary, smiles cruelly at the tiny pinprick tears in blown, grateful eyes. He is reminded of the bitch that wanted Otabek to choke her, and Yuri has to grin. If anything, it's Yuri making <em> him </em>choke. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls back out, slaps the wet and messy cock in his hand on Otabek's face a few times. If he doesn't get a proper cum shot, he can at least make sure all of Otabek's face smells like him. Yuri receives appreciative, hazy glances as an answer to his rough treatment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walks further down the aisle, finds a desk, hops onto it. Yuri stretches out his foot and presents Otabek the textured underside of his boot. "One minute, I'm taking the time." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Timer set, Yuri nods down at Otabek, who immediately begins to rub his crotch against the boot. None of them cares if it leaves stains on the fabric around his erection. Otabek will cum over his pants, this is a lost cause for modesty. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The movements grow erratic, the panting is loud enough for Yuri to hear it clearly. Even with the tight time frame, Otabek looks up and waits for permission. Yuri gives it to him 58 seconds in. Otabek didn’t expect it. Yuri can see it in the way he folds over, twitches, sinks into himself and Yuri, and their touch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before that whole situation between them developed, Yuri would have bet his life that it's impossible to cum so hard from fucking a shoe sole. Now he knows, it's the control. The humiliation. The pain and pleasure and the feeling of belonging somewhere. To someone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets Otabek rut out his orgasm, then spreads his knees. The professor settles between them. Yuri plays with his hair, stares down without actually seeing. Any second now, someone could find them. Now that his brain is working again, he wonders if there are cameras.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Otabek looks up at him, eyes unfocused. He tries to speak, but sinks against Yuri's leg once more, sighing deeply. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know." Yuri's hand is still in his hair, twisting the longer strands on top. He does. He actually does know. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a few blissful moments, they simply exist between offices and libraries, lecture halls, and dorm rooms. Then, the expensive phone on the floor signals a message. Otabek doesn't want to look, but Yuri knows only one person would text him right now, and only for one reason. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ultimately, Otabek reads it and straightens up. He nods at Yuri, now almost cold and professional. Yuri nods back. Sometimes, he would like him to stay a bit, so they could kiss. But the professor ruffles his feathers until he looks flawless again, stained crotch hidden by a long coat, and leaves without another word. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His daughter woke and screamed for daddy. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, friend or potential friend.<br/>I hope you don't hate me too much now. With this, I wanted to explore a concept in which Otabek is technically still in a more powerful position but actively chooses to bow down. What do you think of it?<br/>Feel free to talk to me, I love interacting with readers. </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!<br/>I'm also on<br/>tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/venom-for-free<br/>instagram: https://www.instagram.com/venom_for_free/<br/>or twitter: https://twitter.com/venom_for_free</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>